THe Elemental Storm
by Fball
Summary: Two years have past. Bartimaeus is summoned again, but, this time, not by a magician, but a strange commoner boy. In many way, he reminds Bartimaeus of Ptolemy, but soon both are on the run for this rouge summoning, with no one to trust but the other.
1. Bartimaeus I

_Bartimaeus_

**I**

The temperature of the room began to rise, slowly at first, but getting hotter and hotter rapidly until it reached a climate of a volcano. The air turned dry and scorching, the furniture in the room appearing to turn to sand and gusting with the furnace wind. In the middle of the pentacle appeared a demon. (_An actual one, thank you very much. So much slander these days aimed towards us honest djinni._) It's skin was a brilliant mix of blood red and dark black, with jagged and torn wings black as the Devils pupils which flapped infrequently to keep it's cloven hooves of the hardwood floors. It's top half was one of a humans, though of course red, with the bottom half being that of a goat. (_Who's fur also the red and black mix as said before._) The head had a mix of a goat and a human, with sharp teeth, most straight and like daggers with the top canines more similar to a snakes fangs. Horns jetted from elegant forehead and curved until they almost touched the back of the demons head. It had an impressive coal black beard the pointed smartly at the end. Hey, I wanted to scare the kid.

The summoner _was _a kid, which if I had learned anything from the past, was going to be bad for me. (_You all remember Nathaniel, right? In the beginning he was right cheeky and mean, but he made the eternal sacrifice in the end. He ranked second on my list of favorite masters, only being over ranked by Ptolemy, of course)_ He watched the entire spectacle before him, a small smile on his face. He was sitting on a three legged stool and reached between his legs and grabbed a bottle of water, which he sipped as his amused if not amazed eyes observed the happens that were occurring before him. That put me off a bit, and I quit the show. The sand returned to the furniture and the heat in the room returned to its norm. I stayed a demon though, but stopped trying to keep in the air. (_Which was beginning to tire me out. _You _try hovering in placed with the wings of an overgrown bat and see how easy it is.) _

We sat in silence for a moment, checking each other out. Finally, the boy spoke.

"My name is Geoff. This is my birthname."

The foolishness of this boy! Right off the bat he gave me arsenal to throw at him if he tried to punish me. Not a smart move. Obviously, his master had neglected to tell him to forget it as soon as possible.

Geoff continued. "I tell you this for two reasons. The first is that I will show you no harm. I am aware that if I try to punish you, you, being a strong and wise spirit, will throw it right back at me."

The demons topped smiling and closed its mouth. Now _that _was strange.

The boy smiled at my reaction. "The second, and probably the most surpising to you, is that I am a commoner, and thus for have no other name."

I held up a demonic hand, the black and torn fingernails glowing in the brightly lit room. "Now wait a minute," I said. I looked around me and saw that this was no magicians summoning chamber. It was indeed a commoner kind of room. It was painted the color of blood on two walls, the rest a kind of light black, though both were extremely faded. There was a foton in couch position, and posters of girls on the wall. (_None naked though. Just thought I'd tell you._) A computer sat on a desk along with a stereo the boy had managed to rig to the computer to give it surround sound. Two guitars stood in a corner on stands, one acoustic, the other electric, with an amp sitting next to them. "You're telling me that you're a _commoner?_"

The boy nodded. "While it's not widely known, a commoner _has _summoned you before. Kitty Jones, I believe."

I groaned. "What year is it?" When he told me, I let out another groan. "Two years? Two bloody years? Why is it that everyone's summoning _me? _There are a load worth of other spirits out there, you know!"

The boy smiled again. "Yes, but none as wise or experience as you," he paused for a moment. "Not necessarily true, I suppose. There are beings out there that have created the earth and the Sun, but I'd prefer not to bring them into this World. I think they'd be disgusted to see what us humans have done to their creations. Not mention I would most likely die of exhaustion if I even attempted to summon them. Don't look so down." I had taken the comment before all this as a compliment, but he kind of dashed it was the second bit. "While you may not be as wise or experience as those beings-and how could you? You're still relatively young for spirit! What you are is a smart djinni, one that has surived all five thousand years of your existence. You're almost has old as intelligent human kind, and I use to word _intelligent _loosely. Man today, I am afraid to admit, is almost as ignorant as our oldest ancestor." (_Too right, there. Man seems to always kill each other for some reason. Us higher beings have no need for this; we see not each other by our difference. Sure, some have five tentacles while others have eight eyes, but we all get along in the Other Place._)

"What is your charge, then?" I asked impatiently. "My essence is beginning to feel drained."

A worried expression filled the boys face. "Does it? Do you need food? I have found a litter of kittens along the side of the road. While they _are _cute, they are surely likely to die within the week."

Time for some acting. I put a shocked face on. "You're going to feed me _kittens? _You're a down right monster!"

"They will die within the week, I already told you. Most have pneumonia and I couldn't give them away. My last resort would be to send them to the pound in hopes that they would be adopted, but it's more likely that they'll be gassed. You having them would give them a quicker and more humane end, and would help you're essence. I'm sure they'd rather have that."

The boy had a point there. I didn't really give two sneezes about abandoned kittens, but I was trying to get the boy to feel bad. I could already sense that he did, but he was choosing the lesser of two evils. I sighed and said, "Alright. Fetch them."

I watched him contently, waiting for him to exit the pentacle. He stood from the stool, but didn't move. He addressed me. "I'm gonna get them, which means I will leave the pentacle. Whether or not you attack me is solely up to you. If you do decide to, I have a request. Not a command, a request. There is a letter on my dresser. You may leave your pentacle to read it if you want to, but it's for my mother. She'll want to know what happened to me. I've already put so much strain on her from recent events that I don't want her to think…to think that I went backwards again. I left out your name to keep her from alerting certain authorities, who would no doubt penalized you, and you wouldn't have had the advantage of knowing _their _names. If you decide to attack and devour me, before you return to the Other Place, please make sure she gets it. Drop it in the mail, or something."

I considered the strange proposal. He had surrendered all his power to me, something unheard of. (_Well, except Ptolemy, but that was long ago._). Though it went against my natural instinct, which was to pounce on him at the first chance, devour him and his essence (maybe the kittens, too, if they were in the condition that Geoff described), then fly laughing home to tell the tale. I accepted his deal with a nod.

His last remark before he went and fetched the kittens shocked me more than the entire ordeal thus far. "I trust you," he said, then began to leave the pentacle.


	2. Bartimaeus II

_Bartimaeus_

**II**

Geoff stepped out of his pentacle. Without even thinking, a thick tentacle of smoke began to follow him. There was an initial pain as it exited the circle, but that was to be expected. (_While he said that I could leave the circle, it kind of had two problems with it. One was that it was suggested that it was only to read the letter to his mum. The second was that it was a command, so it made it even more hard to for my essence to attack him._) It began to accelerate, but I got a grip on it just in time-it had been within a couple of centimeters away from the back fabric of his shirt. I recalled the tentacle, and it retracted back into me. I wasn't trying to hurt the boy-his proposition and his sacrifice of control intrigued me and I wanted to keep good on my word that I would not attack, though I never said that I wouldn't out loud. That was why my essence reached out to consume him. It's kind of a habit, you see. Usually, when a magician steps out of the pentacle, he is no longer in control of much of anything and you can do what you want with him. It was only with great effort that I stopped the attack. (_You see, us spirits don't have a 'brain', per say, since we are made entirely of essence, though there are certain similarities. For example, the conscience side of us is much like, I don't know, you're frontal lobe? You can control it easily without much effort, and it doesn't usually get the best of you. I would describe that in us spirits as the 'outer essence'. Our 'inner essence' is more of the unconscious side of your brain. It controls our habits. For example, what just happened would be a conditioned reflex. Think Pavlov's dogs, but instead of a bell signaling time to salivate, it's the sound of that first footstep out of the pentacle._)

I stepped out of the pentacle and went to the boy's dresser. Indeed, on it was an envelope on it. The envelope had a man's scrawl on it, which read simply '_Mum'_. So far, the boy had been honest with me. I was still wary though. Who would give you their real name right off the bat? Perhaps it wasn't his real name and he was trying to deceive me. That sounded more like. Though the letter itself held no interest to me, I scanned it to see if the kid had accidentally put his real name in it somewhere. (_While most of you reading would think that it would be a waste of time to check, I would disagree. Many a magician had been compromised when someone had scanned a letter to a birth parents, which happened infrequently but history has shown that magicians have discovered the parents who had given them up. Other times, they reveal their true names to their love interest as a way to sway her to marry him. Both are foolhardy, but has happed. So it's not necessarily a waste of time to scan through whatever papers are on a magicians desk._)

There was no aura around the envelope so I deemed it safe to open. (_Well, no _magical _aura. There are several types of aura's, such as a life aura, love aura, or hate aura. Most humans don't give any of these but the magic type the time of day. The letter had a heavy aura of the love kind around it.) _It was somewhat folded messily, though you could tell the kid had tried his best to make it look good. Hmm, another hint that he wasn't a magician. (_Magicians are perfectionists by nature. It's the only way they can keep control of things._) Opening it, I scanned it. It read:

_Mum,_

_ If you're reading this, it's most likely because you found a scorch mark or something in my room, but not me. It's not because I pissed off a magicians like you know that I do, or that one of my old dealers came to the house and took care of me because of a debt. Also, if I'm not there, there's most likely two pentacles. I know how you feel about magicians and magic and all that, Mum, but I'm thirsty for knowledge. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't plan on using the spirits great power to wreck havoc on the magicians or knick things from people or something lowely like that. I simply want to see if I can do it and…I don't know. Learn something from it, I guess. But, again, if you're reading this, it means I have failed and am now dead. Don't cry, Mum, it was my fault. Overestimating my ability, being cocky, or something. You know me. I have a will hidden underneath the laundry basket. Just pick it up, it's in an envelope. I'm leaving you with the money I've saved up, Mum. Should last you a while, rent and food and all. After all, you have one less mouth to feed! Bad time for a joke, I know. Well, this is just becoming a rambling, I'd better stop before I start thinking that what I'm about to do is a bad idea. I love you, Mum. Geoff._

I wasn't thoroughly convinced of the boys honestly, but there were a great many things that made me believe him. First was the aura of love around the letter. It was a dark, dark pink, almost blood red in fact. That was the strongest kind of aura, which meant he had poured his heart, almost literally, into the letter. Second, he signed it with the name he gave me. Finally, everything the letter said about the great spirit was basically what he was getting at in the pentacle. (_Just have to gloat a moment: the letter said _great spirit_ and refered to _me._ It was a nice changed from the usual 'evil demon', or 'foul spirit'. I was beginning to like this kid._)

I replaced the letter into the envelope and returned to the pentacle. Once inside, I changed into Ptolemy. He sat cross-legged on the floor, one hand limp on his lap while the other supported his chin. I only had a few moments to think more about the entire situation when the boy entered with a meowing box.

He laid the box down on the futon and sat next to it. I watched with interest. He lifted the kittens, one at a time, closed his eyes and muttered, "_Gínetai éna me to spirt.",_ rubbing their tiny heads with his thumb while he said it.Hmm, Greek. 'Become one with the spirit.' The boy obviously knew at least two languages relatively fluently, and it appeared he wasn't a Catholic, otherwise it would be in Latin, and they would most likely be 'the holy spirit'. He would also most likely be less for essentially sacrificing these living beings to me. (_Well, if he were a modern day Catholic, that is. Early Catholicism had more of a Pagan twang to it, with the sacrifice of infidels and those who would not convert to a religion that they were not raised in. The result was the Crusades, though the men at the time didn't realize that 'God' and 'Allah' were one and the same. The being was the one the boy spoke of earlier, and had no true name. The last time he was called to earth, he cause a flood, but allowed one elderly magician to escape death by making an arc and filling it. I'm sure you know the rest; 'two of each animal' and so on. What I bet you didn't know was the this Noah wasn't the one who built the arc, or any of his sons. He had several djinni and a handful of afrits make the boat and gather the animals. How you people could believe a senior citizen could do all this is beyond me._)

All together, he blessed seventeen kittens all together, each sicklier than the last. All had mange, the fur falling off in spots, and wheezed horribly, desperately hanging onto the last thread of life they had. One or two were already on the brink of death; the didn't respond with the shuffling of the other kittens, nor when Geoff picked them up and blessed them. The boy was right; these would not survive the weak, and would definitely be euthanized almost as soon as they were taken from his hands. Though they were close to death, their beating hearts still flared essence, not a lot, but quit a bit.

The boy finished, and sat silently for a moment, eyes closed. He seemed in prayer. After about a minute, he picked up the box and brought them to the outside of the circle. He rest them gently on the ground, and back away. He turned his back, and my respect for him grew a bit. (_You see, it's kind of rude to watch us spirits consume living things, though that doesn't stop most magicians from watching in fascination as we devour stray dogs and such to help keep our essence intact during our long enslavements._)

Bending down, I whispered the Quiet Lullaby into the tiny felines ears. (_Quiet Lullaby: a spell which induces almost instant sleep onto the listener. Another little fact is that Odysseus had a djinni whisper this spell into the Cyclops Polyphemus' ear. This is how he and his surviving crew got the giant to sleep before binding him, not getting him drunk off wine. In fact, the djinni was the entire reason the crew survived the island encounter; he was the one who whispered the Quiet Lullaby, he was the one to tell Odysseus tell the Cyclops his name was 'No-one', he was the one to suggest they carve a point into the olive club and drive it into the beasts eye, and, finally, it was he who instructed the men to hide beneath the belly of the sheep as Polyphemus opened the cave to let them out to graze. Shame the djinni, named Peleus, was later used to make the Golden Fleece. Poor Peleus was charged with keeping the fleece the same color as gold until the end of time or the destruction of the fleece itself. It should also be noted that the member of Jason's crew to retrieve the Fleece with the same name has no relations to him whatsoever. Just another interesting coincidence in history._) As they slept into their last rest, I enveloped them with a thick black fog and entwined their essence with my own. Though there wasn't much there, I already felt a hundred time better, though a little nauseated as the sickness the kittens had purged itself from my essence through my essences pores. (_Don't ask. It's a complicated case of the 'biology', for lack of a better word, of our essence._)

I whistled and Geoff turned around, spied the empty box, and let out a sigh. "At least they're in a better place," he said, running a hand through his long, thick, blonde hair. I should stop and mention here that his hair was in no way as long as Nat's. Whie Nat's went down past his shoulder blades, Geoff's was a good inch and a half away from his shoulders, and was much less oiler than Nathaniel's.

I shrugged. "True. I sure wish _I _was in a better place right now."

The kid smiled at this. "I'm positive you would. But I have one thing for you. Again, this is not a command."

The Egyptian boy in the pentacle opposite of his scratched his chin. "You sure seem to be set on not giving me commands." I commented. "If you're not here to order me around, why did you summon me?"

Geoff nodded. "I guess I could explain my plan."

Yikes! The kid had a plan! Again, my essence twinged a little at the thought of whatever he was planning. It was not going to fare well for me.

"I understand that one of your earlier masters allowed you to see the world. Am I right? It was Ptolemy, and unless I'm mistaken, that's the person whose form you've taken."

I felt a little uncomfortable with people knowing that I was in a past masters form, so I crossed my arms and snapped back, "Maybe, maybe not." (_Taking the form of a human is one of two things: an insult to said human, or praise. Most often its an insult, often times to the individual and mankind in general. It's very uncommon and unpopular for any sentient beings to know that you're complimenting a past master. It's a kind of show of weakness._)

The boys eyes widen and he began to apologize hastily. "No, no, no! That wasn't an insult or anything! It was just an observation! I don't think it's a sign of weakness."

I still had my arms crossed, but felt a tad bit better about the ordeal. "Fine. This is Ptolemy, and, yes, he did in fact allow me the freedom to roam the world for a period of two weeks."

"How would you like to view that world again for two weeks?" Geoff asked, smiling. I guess I must have let my face show my bewilderment. "The world has changed since you've last seen it," the boy went on, getting off his stool and leaving the pentacle to shuffle throw a pile of papers on his desk. Again, I restrained from devouring him, but I stopped the tentacle before it even ejected from the pentacle. Much more of this and the kid would be a goner.

He returned, not to his pentacle, but entering mine to stand beside me. Whether or not the kid realized this, but he made a gutsy move. Entering the djinni's pentacle essentially meant that, if I so chosed, I could devour him, make him my own slave, or do a billion other things to him. (_None of which are very nice, let me tell you._) But by doing this, he again earned more respect. Keeping my tentacles in check, I let him lean close and show me the pictures.

"Egypt." The photo showed the Great Sphinx, which I had built. Apparently, somewhere along the line, the spirit in charge of maintaining it had failed. "America." This one was a great obelisk, named after someone named George apparently. (_Kind of a boring name, huh? George Washington. Doesn't have the same ring as Tutankhamun. Now _there's _a name._) "Russia." A great domed building with brightly colored posts. "The world has changed, my friend, and you have so much to see. If you wish, you can go see the world. If you don't want to, you can devour me or do whatever you wish to me since I have entered your pentacle. Or you can return home, to the Other Place, and I will never call on you again."

Oh, dear. Choices, choices. On one hand, I could devour the kid, soak up his essence like a dry sponge, and laugh my ass of all the way home. (_Note: Djinni, nor do any Higher Beings, have an 'ass', 'butt', or 'trunk'. It's not the nature of our essence._) On the other, I could see the new world, just as I had done for Ptolemy, all those years ago. Well, curiosity killed the cat, but I am a djinni, and am made of much tougher stuff. I made my choice.

Geoff walked to the nearest window and opened it for me, then, standing next to the window in a slight bow and left hand extended towards me like a chauffeur, said, "The world awaits you."

I changed into a hawk and leapt from the window, soaring on the thermals and pondering on the boys certain choice of words. _The world has changed…_

_ My friend. _


	3. Bartimaeus III

_Geoff_

**III**

Geoff watched the djinni fly away until it was less then a speck in the horizon. With a sigh, he turned, leaving the window open. The summoning had left the room with the harsh smells of rosemary and heavily heated wood. Grabbing the broom, he swept up the powdered chalk of both pentacles, considering all the time of what could happen when the djinni returned. Though he trusted the spirit completely, he couldn't help his mind flow through the possibilities of what would occur when Bartimaeus returned. _Sure, he didn't absorb my essence when he was presented the opportunity, but that would have sent him back to Other Place the moment my heart stopped, _his uneased argued. _By not devouring me then, he could go see the world, be free for two weeks. When he returns, he could…_

_Shut up. _

Shaking his head, he retrieved a wash bucket filled with hot, soapy water and quickly washed the floor with a sponge. After it had dried, he carefully put the rug back were it belonged over the hardwood. Digging in his pocket, he took out his bright blue lighter and lit the three fragrant candles his mother had put in his room to 'combat the stench of a growing boy', as she joked. It was only partially true, in all honesty. When he woke up, he smelled fined. When he got to school, smelled better because of showering, deodorant, and a sprits of cologne. When he got home, he smelled like he did when he woke up. Only when he returned from working at the docks did he have body odor. He would change the moment he got home, throwing the filthy clothes into the laundry basket and spraying it was Frebreeze before he went and showered.

Long hours working at the docks had toned his muscles greatly. His job, essentially, was moving heavy box from point A to point B, sometimes from B to C, and so on. Lifting fifty kilo boxes for six hours a day was his only workout, the only one he needed.

Changing clothes to avoid his mother from smelling the rosemary and other summoning spices on his person, he slipped on a pair of faded jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt and went downstairs to watch TV.

There was nothing interesting on the tube. He channel surfed for 0011 to 3014 and found nothing to watch. He choose the History Channel, being as they had something on Egypt. He put the remote down beside him on the couch and yawned. The summoning had been his first and it had worn him out. With every blink his eyelids became heavier and heavier, until, five minutes later, he was dozing.

His mother came home promptly at five thirty that afternoon to find him asleep on the couch. He was laying on it, but only from the torso up. His feet were still on the ground. His mouth was open slightly, but not snoring. Alisen, his mother, looked at the clock, about to scold her only son for sleeping at such an hour. She was about to put her purse down and wake him, but suddenly hung back. Something about how deeply he was resting told her that he needed it. So instead of reprimanding her son, she walked to the front of the couch and swung his legs so that they were on the couch as well. He shifted to a more comfortable position on his own, never opening an eye. She draped a blanket over him, then went to her room and changed. Looking at the clock again, she decided that should would wake him when dinner was done. The poor boy was probably starving after…well, after whatever it was that he did to wear himself out so.

He awoke two hours later on his own accord. Opening his eyes, his only view was the backrest of the couch. Shifting over, he looked at his mother, who sat on the recliner chair, reading a book and watching television at the same time. She noticed him move out of the corner of her eye and turned to look at him. Her lips grew into a broad smile and she said, "Well, it looks like you came out of your coma! What did you do to drain yourself so?"

Without thinking, he lied, "I picked up an extra hour at the docks covering for Casey. The boxes are getting even bigger, Mum. It's ridiculous."

She nodded, accepting the lie with no problem. "Didn't hurt your back again, did you?"

One year previous, Geoff was working when he hurt his back. He was lifting a box, the standard fifty kilos when he suddenly heard something crack. Instant pain when from the source of the crack, and he dropped to the floor bringing the box with him. In pain, he had let go of the box, which, on his landing, struck him in the ribs, cracking two of them. The box wasn't damaged, but Geoff was at the moment. He writhed on the ground like a worm going from one puddle to the next. It took a half hour for people to notice that he hadn't returned with his box. By the time they got to the scene, he had already passed out. Fearing he was dead, Casey began to attempt to slap him awake. Brandon stopped Casey and pushed him aside. Putting his first two fingers on Geoff's neck, he found that he had a pulse. He sent Casey for the smelling salts. Geoff became conscious to the nauseating smell.

Retching, he turned onto his left side, which held the two cracked ribs and vomited. Immediately in pain, he screamed out and curled into a tight ball until the pain was barely tolertable. He could not move from the position. Casey phoned for an ambulance while Brandon stood by and asked what had happened.

When the paramedics came, they had to fight with Geoff, not realizing that by trying to get him to lay straight on his back, they had cracked the ribs even further. Brandon had to box one of them on the ears and yell at them to get them to put him onto the stretcher in the position he was in.

Once at the hospital, it turned out that he had pinched a nerve in his back that led to his leg, and that in his thrashing with the uncaring paramedics, he had damaged it to a point where he would have a minor limp for the rest of his life. The pain went away with the aid of pain killers and muscle relaxers, his limp did not. It was barely noticeable, and he was able to continue his work at the docks.

While Geoff accounted the whole thing to be a freak accident, his mother was angry at the paramedics for being so unprofessional. Alisen had went to the paramedics main office and raised hell there for an hour and a half. The authorities were almost called. In the end, though, all was well. The regional manager of the ambulance was there, and, upon hearing the story, fired the two paramedics involved. This was enough to pacify Alisen, but the manager wanted to 'make things right'. He waived the ambulance fee, and even paid for Geoff's hospital stay. While Alisen added this up to the managers fear of a lawsuit, Geoff saw it differently. The ambulance company had money, and if there was ever a lawsuit, they would win. Geoff saw the act as an act of kindess, and on one occasion, actually went and thank the manager himself. They hit if off the bat and became instant friends. Mr. Wells, or Greg as he wanted Geoff to call him, offered him a job, which Geoff refused politely. Greg persisted though, saying, "Well, if you ever get tired of lifting boxes half your size for six hours a day, you know were to go!"

So summoning Bartimaeus had nothing to do with revenge. What it had to with was knowledge.

From an early age, Geoff was a bright student. Kindergarten and elementary school were easy for him, and he proceeded to middle school without a hitch. That went well, too, but high school is when he started to get into trouble. His freshman year was the first year of commoners ruling London alongside magicians, so there were new classes, some mandatory.

His freshman year consisted of Algebra I, English I, World Cultures, an Art class, and Common Magic. Common Magic was the one class were he was frequently excused from the room for his questions. It's teacher, a low grade magician named Mr. Handly, hated being a teacher, but persisted with the career since it had the most promising future in the government. One day during class almost got Geoff expelled, and Mr. Handly sacked.

"Class, we will move on to demons," Handly droned, but, unlike the rest of the class, Geoff was not hypnotized to sleep by the monotone sound of Handly voice. He was ready, pencil poised over his paper. "They are, in ranking from least powerful to most; imps, foliots, djinni, afrits and marids."

Geoff raised his hand. Handly groaned. "Yes, Santer?"

"So there's nothing more powerful than a marid?"

Handly shook his head like it was a stupid question. "No, Santer, there are more powerful beings than a marid. How do you think universe was made? Now, class-"

"So there's things weaker than am imp?"

Slightly aggravated, Handly cooly replyed, "There are things called mites, which are simple demons; they look like a mix of a tick and a hornet, and have the temperament of the later. And there are things even lower than that, though no one ever summons them."

Geoff nodded, jotting it down in his notes. In his mind, there were nothing wrong with these questions, but to Handly, they were simple questions with simple answers. He thought Geoff was just asking these questions to be cute, though in truth, Geoff had no past training or knowledge of spirits.

"Now, we'll start with the lowest of the low, imps. They are pitiful creatures to a magician, such as I," Handly puffed out his chest in pride, as though being a magician still meant anything to anyone in the new government. "But to commoners, they pose a deadly threat. They are simple enough for a magician to summon without a second thought. You have to know the correct words, which are in a different language-"

It was too vague for Geoff. He raised his hand again, much to Handly's anger. "Yes?"

"Two part question: first is: what language? And second is: what are they?"

"Well, two part answer," Handly said snottily. "First is: Latin. And second: _appare, mane, ausculta, se dede, pare, _and _redi. _Now, when you know these-_yes, _Santer, what _is _it?"

"Can you translate those?"

Handly stiffened. "Of course. Appear, remain, listen, submit, obey, and return. _Now, _when you know these words, a magician-oh, Gods above, _what is it, Santer?_" Handly was almost foaming at the mouth.

"What's the most powerful High Being you've ever summoned?"

With an enrage scream that rang with insanity, Handly clamped his hands together and muttered something. An imp, who had sat, invisible, on his shoulder the entire time, appeared. It was some kind of bird with hands and feet instead of wings and talons, its fur and feather mix decending shades of blue, with the darkest at the crest of his head. Instead of a beak, it had a wide mouth, which was grinning, displaying a horrible case of sharks teeth.

Geoff, who did not know what he would say next would insult the teacher into violence, asked, "So an imp?"

It was the last stray. Handly muttered something and smile on the imp became larger. It leaned back on his shoulder, then sprang like a puma. It landed on Billy's desk, who wet himself with fright, bounced onto his head, and leaped at Geoff, retractable claws drawn. Geoff's eyes widened, but in fascination rather than fright. It was still his early days of the study of the Higher Beings, his first in fact, and he thought them to be like ghosts; they could scare you all they wanted, but never hurt you.

The imp was barely a meter away when it exploded with a small burst of blue and green flame, a powerful stench of burning feather filling the room. In the doorway stood Mr. Wong, the teacher of Higher Magic. He was leaning on the doorway, eyes narrowed to slits at Handly. In a level voice, he asked, "Mr. Santer…are you hurt?"

"No," Geoff asked, confused. "Am I supposed to be?"

"No, not at all," Wong started. He scratched the stubble on his face. "You're not _supoosed _to be in pain. The question of the matter is; why would Mr. Handly make his imp attack you?"

Purple in the face with rage, Handly spat out his version of the story. When he finished, Wong, who looked a little bored, turned to Geoff. "Geoff, did you purposely insult Mr. Handly?"

"No?" Geoff replied, still confused. "I asked him what was the highest level of being he's summoned and he said something and this imp thing appeared on his shoulder."

Mr. Wong smiled. "And you assumed that, since he allowed the imp to appear after you asked, it was the highest level of spirit he could summon?"

"Well…yeah."

Mr. Wong scatched his chin stubble again, then began to talk to Handly. "Quinn, how could you not see that this boy is just curious? It's a shame that his parents didn't want him to become a magician! Further more, why would you send your imp to kill him over a small misunderstanding?"

Handly went on the defensive. "I did not order Erl to kill the boy!"

Wong's expression turned cold. "You just lied to me. Unless Latin has changed, which I can assumed it hasn't, it being a dead language, I believe '_iugulo puer', _in it's literal translation, means 'to cut the throat boy. In a translation that would make sense to everyone here, it means 'kill the boy.' And on a note of my own, why did you give the order in Latin? Good, old fashioned English would have been suffice for your demon to understand. Unless…you didn't want the rest of the class to understand the order. That way, you could say the imp went out of control with bloodlust." Wong's eyes hardened. "Well, it would seem that would have been the last intelligent thing you'll do. Fja, take this filth to the police. They'll give him the proper punishment in the Tower."

An invisible force wrapped itself around Handly, pinning his hands to his sides and gagging him. It escorted the ex-teacher through the doorway, and he was never seen again by anyone in the room.

"Mr. Santer? Please follow me," Wong said to Geoff, then addressed the class. "I will be back to substitute for Mr. Handly in a bit. Please, not too much horseplay. I expect the room to be just a tad bit more dirty when I get back." Wong laughed and led Geoff by the shoulder into the hall, where they began to walk, seemingly without aim.

"Geoff, do you realize how lucky you are?" Wong asked. "No? I would guess as much. Mr. Handly was…a bit of a narcissist, fueled even more so when he gained a small position of power in the government. When the old and faulty government fell and new one erected, he was out of a job. Now, even a small position of power still brings in quite a sum of money, and losing that nearly drove Handling insane. He could not find employment anywhere where magicians were, because of his lack of true power." They turned left here, almost as if to punctuate the sentence. "I, myself, was in a position in the old government called the Head of Foreigner affairs. Not in charge, of course, but rather in a kind of second place. I was happy here, but distraught when I began to see how corrupt and power hungry all of the government was. I was too happy to give my seat to a commoner, Mrs. Fringe, and take up a job teaching what had been secrets for over a hundred years. The truth in the matter-" Mr. Wong paused and pressed against the wall of a floor zamboni type machine waxed the floor. It's driver, janitor Biggs, waved at both of them before turning the corner to continue waxing. "The truth of the matter is this: anyone can become a magician. It's a sad affair really. Poor parents give their children up for a spot at becoming one for some money. A sad amount really, usually around a hundred and fifty pounds. Enough for a months rent. And it is still this way!" Mr. Wong shook his head. "I still remember being dropped off by my parents…" his eyes went misty here.

Geoff was a bit off. He was following what Wong was saying, understanding it, but had difficulty with what this had to do with him. Mr. Wong suddenly returned to reality.

"Being a magician is a cold reality, Geoff. You are not allowed to bear children. This would lead to magician bloodlines and dynasties, like those of ancient China and Egypt. Blood fueds, the whole bit. I see something in you…"

Geoff prepared himself. He was fully expecting Mr. Wong to come onto him, revealing that he had a little boy fetish or something.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Mr. Wong nodded. "Maybe not too late…"

Geoff had had enough. "Too late for what?" he demanded, slightly angry.

"Do you want to become a magician?"

Geoff was taken aback. "No…"

Mr. Wong nodded again, smiling this time. "But you want knowledge of their secret arts?"

"Well…" Geoff did, and badly. Why was it that magicians could summon demons to do their biddings? Why did that make them better then the commoners? Why did that mean they could do whatever they wanted?

"I kow you have many questions, all of which I may be able to answer. Here," Wong took off his shoulder bag, dug in it for a moment, then pulled something out. It was an old book, wrapped in taunt leather. It's pages were yellowed from age and the entire thing smelled like a rosemary garden. He handed it to Geoff. "This will whet your curiosity…for a while. You know where to find me if you want to know more."

Geoff went home that night and read. He read the next night and the next. Within half a school week, he had read and absorbed the entireity of the book. And he wanted to know more.

He approached Wong on a Wendsay, three days before Wong was killed in an 'accidental' hit and run. The driver was believed to be Handly's birth mother, who Handly had found and kept in contact with. She had ran over Wong in revenge for the death of her son, then was never found again, though her car was found in the Thames some weeks later.

"I want more."


End file.
